


Little Spies.

by Lauren_is_a_moron



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Boarding School, F/M, M/M, Spies & Secret Agents, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 04:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15833526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_is_a_moron/pseuds/Lauren_is_a_moron
Summary: At sixteen Betty Cooper is thrown out of the orphanage she's been at her whole life, and starts Blackwood Academy, a school with a dark secret hidden behind its seemingly perfect, polished walls and fancy architecture.  This school only takes the kids who aren't wanted. The one's who won't be missed. And Betty fits the school perfectly.Before she knows it, Betty is forced into a whole different world, an organisation ran by Hiram Lodge where orphaned kids are trained to be killers. She finds herself falling for the chestnut haired boy with the pained smile. The boy who talks into her head. But he's already been trained. He's a lost cause. Can she save him as well as herself?"Oh, wait, I almost forgot!" Julie laughed, delving back into the draw and pulling out something that made Betty's heart stop. She nearly dropped the envelope, and seeing the girl's reaction, Julie chuckled. "Relax!" she laughed, placing a nine millimeter hand gun onto the desk. Betty stared at it, as if it might bite her the second she grabbed it. "All students are required to have a gun at all times," Julie smiled brightly, and Betty swore the girl winked. "You'll see why."





	Little Spies.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! *laughs nervously* I'm back with another fic! Continuing in my 'Little' series............... enjoy! This is the first fic I've written in a while, so please excuse the bad writing, welp. I was going to have Jug be the main protag of this, but it seemed a little bit too much like Stitched, yikes.

08/23/2006

Five year old Jughead Jones told himself not to breathe. If he did, he'd die. The monsters would get him. He lay on his stomach under his bed, and shoved his head into his bedroom carpet, holding his breath. He could still hear the screams from downstairs, even when he had slammed his hands over his ears. The screams kept coming, high pitched and blood curling. His mother. The monsters were hurting her. He wanted to jump up and rush downstairs to save her. And his father. But something held him in place. Fear gnawed on his insides, gluing his limbs to his sides and stitching his mouth shut.

When the intruders had come, busting through the front door, Gladys Jones had ushered him upstairs up to his room, which he'd dived inside, crawling under his bed.

The only thing Jughead could do was try not to breathe, and keep the palms of his hands stuck to his ears. It meant that everything drowned out, the screams of his mother and father downstairs, replaced by his own shaky breathing. Jughead stiffened. He'd broken one of his rules. He was breathing. In and out, in and out. He couldn't help it. But the monsters weren't coming to get him. For some reason, they were hurting his parents, and not him. When the screams stopped, and there was just silence, Jughead peeled his hands from his ears. Tears were trailing down his cheeks, but he didn't swipe them away. He listened out for his mother's voice, calling him downstairs, telling him everything was okay. But he couldn't hear her any more. He couldn't hear anything, but low thumps and muffled shouting which didn't sound like his parents. The strangers were yelling.

Biting back a sob, Jughead started to crawl out of his hiding place, but froze when footsteps started up the stairs. Loud and invasive. Jughead whimpered, slamming his hand over his mouth. Don't cry. He told himself. Don't breathe, don't breathe, don't breathe-

When his bedroom door flung open he had to bite into his lower lip to choke back the cry ready to tear from his raw throat. Two pairs of boots stamped his pale blue carpet, and Jughead wriggled further underneath his bed, curling up and burying his head between his legs. He could hear the footsteps getting closer. When he unfurled himself, craning his neck, he spied a pair of black boots a few feet away from him. "He's obviously under the bed, Alice." the man's voice was an irritated grumble. "It's where all little kids hide from the monsters," Jughead started to shuffle back when the figure bent down to meet his gaze. It was a man, around his dad's age. He had pale skin, dark curly hair and a beard. Unlike his father, the man's grey eyes were not kind. He was smiling, but the smile lied. It was a shark grin, the type of smile that was only plastered across the lips of a bad man. His father had told him about strangers, and yet he had stayed blissfully ignorant of them, until there was one inches from his face, ready to reach out and grab him.

They already had him. Jughead cried out when his ankles were grabbed, and he was yanked from his hiding spot, his safe place. When he tried to struggle out of their grip, something hit him hard in the back of his head, and for one glorious second, he saw stars glittering across his vision. When he blinked them away, he found himself lying on his back, staring at a figure looming over him. It was a woman with a pretty face. She had short blonde hair and steely blue eyes. But like the man, her smile lied.

Before Jughead could try and get away, the woman was grabbing and lifting up, cradling him to her chest. Like his mother did. "Jughead Jones," the woman murmured, tightening her grip when he squirmed, crying out for his parents, who still weren’t answering. Why weren’t they coming to get him? 

"Gotcha."

 

*

 

08/14/2018

Betty Cooper felt like she was going to be sick.

The narrow, gravelly road had been jostling Miss Benson's car for at least five miles now, and that was on top of her first day jitters. Miss Benson kept cursing to herself about flat tires, and just how bad the road was. Betty hoped and prayed that the damn thing didn't break down. That was the last thing she needed. Although it was late afternoon, the sky was quickly darkening. Whatever light left over from the disappearing sun was dim, thanks to the dense forest wrapped around the road they were currently driving down. Which seemed to be going to forever. Leaning her head against the cool window, Betty found herself wondering how easy it would be to get lost in those woods.

"Nearly there, Miss Cooper." Miss Benson spoke up. After a six hour long drive, they were finally nearing what Betty hoped was a new start. Betty's care worker had been singing softly to herself. Pretty much to every song that came on the crackling radio. Betty knew barely any of the songs. Only Oasis which had played ages ago. Even then, she only knew the chorus. Betty nodded and smiled politely. Miss Benson was a woman in her late forties with dark hair and glasses sitting on the edge of a rather pointy nose. Betty had only met the woman this morning, since she would be the one taking Betty to her new home, an academy for gifted youngsters. Which Betty still couldn't believe she had gotten into.

Blackwood Academy- her proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. The place Betty would hopefully be spending the next three years of her life. Since she was to be kicked out of the orphanage at sixteen, Betty had to find either a job, or a school to attend. The local high school was her first choice, but Blackwood Academy had been suggested by the orphanage's house mother. When she had looked it up; the school seemed ideal. Betty had clicked onto its website, automatically being hit with grinning kids and staff, their expression's silently boasting about how amazing the academy was. Betty had sent in an application form, and gotten a reply a week later. The letter had been in a bright red envelope, with the school emblem, an eagle flying through a cross, stamped on the left hand side.

**"Congratulations, Miss Cooper! We are proud to announce that you've been accepted into our 2018-2019 program!"**

Betty could hardly believe it. She was in! Which was crazy, because it wasn't like she was some whizz kid. Her grades definitely weren't Ivy League material. While Blackwood's website stated that 75% of kids had finished with high grades and been accepted into one of the top five schools in the country. Had Blackwood picked her from her personal statement and ignored her grades all together? She spent days on it; constantly editing bits out and adding stuff in; writing in that she was a keen writer, and wanted to pursue journalism in college. She liked reading, and had read most of the classics. Betty left out the fact that she hadn't had any social interaction, apart from occasional outings with the kids from the orphanage. She hadn't written much about being an orphan, since that was pretty much her sob story. Though she couldn't exactly leave it out. Miss Oliver had signed her parental/guardian permission slip, so they definitely knew her situation.

It didn't matter anymore. Even when the question bugged her. Betty was officially a Blackwood Academy student. The letter didn't hold much of anything else. She was expecting an information pack, her class schedule and room key. But all she had was a eight-page-long contract she had to sign, and a leaflet she had already read.

Betty pressed her back into the soft upholstery seats. At least the car was comfy. She had become accustomed to sitting in the back of the orphanage mini van, squeezed between Sammy, and seven year old Hannah, who had thrown up all over herself.

Miss Benson was hard to talk to. Any conversation Betty started, she quickly dismissed, by complaining about the late August heat, or cranking the radio up. Which had been pretty rude, in Betty's opinion. So she had to amuse herself. Her phone had died ages ago. Though it wasn't like Betty had anybody to text. It had been a tedious car ride from the orphanage where she had spent most of her life. Now she was beginning the next chapter, sitting in the back of a posh looking sports car, trying to swallow down her crummy lunch of dry cornflakes and orange juice. It had been her last day at the orphanage, and Betty wanted to get out quickly, avoiding tearful goodbyes. After all, she was leaving the kids she grew up with.

Sammy, her roommate, hadn't let go of her until Miss Benson had to prise the girl's hands off Betty, ushering her into the back of her car. Since leaving her home of sixteen years, she had a lump in her throat. Although she loved everyone at the orphanage, she hadn't had any family to wish her good luck. There was only Miss Oliver the house mother, as well as the other kids.

The orphanage had held a congratulatory/Farewell party a day earlier, and she had been high on excitement and adrenaline for two whole days. Now however, sitting in the back of Miss Benson's car in silence, the reality started to sink in. She was starting a school halfway across the country, and knew nobody. The only family she knew were back in West Virginia. Which was a six hour car ride away. Blackwood Academy was located in Bridgeton, New Jersey. In Betty's mind, a long way away from home.

Betty didn't have parents. She had been a dumpster baby, the subject of many local news stories back in 2002. Apparently, a young couple had found her, only a week old, lying in a dumpster, among dead flowers, old takeaways and rotten pizza's. It was a miracle she was still alive. Betty had been found wrapped in a blanket with a note nestled between her and the damp, dirty material. All it said was her name; Elizabeth.

Miss Oliver, the Orphanage's house mother had cut out the article, letting her keep it in her room. It was an ancient bit of newspaper, with a grainy photo of the dumpster she was found in, as well as the note; her name, in messy blue biro. That's all she had from her birth mother. A note with her name, and a newspaper cutting of the dumpster she was found in. Betty swallowed thickly when the cab went over a bump. Her stomach jumped into her throat. She still had the note in her purse, neatly folded up and wedged between her learners permit and an old middle school photograph of herself. She let out a soft sigh. Out the window, the sky was a warm blue, and finally when the cab came between a break in the trees; everything turned dappled and silvery green in the late summer sunshine.

"Here we are," Miss Benson murmured. When Betty knelt in her seat and craned her neck, she recognised the buildings on the school's website coming into view. They were charming brick colonials placed around a quad with emerald green grass perfectly cut and trimmed. They looked like the academic buildings. Betty remembered them being numbered in the leaflet. Block's A-D in one, and E-G in the other. Pressing her face against the cool glass of the window, Betty searched for any life. In the leaflet, page five to be exact, there were eager kids throwing a Frisbee to one another in the early morning sunlight.

But from the looks of it, the grounds were dead. Betty glanced at the time. 5:46PM. Classes should have ended an hour ago. So where was everyone?

"Are you excited, Betty?" Miss Benson ignited conversation while she searched for a parking spot. The parking lot was empty, which was weird. Where were all the staff's cars? Did they have a separate parking space to the students? When the car reversed, Betty started to feel nauseous. She only nodded with a sickly smile to her care worker's question. The truth was, she was terrified. What if her classmates were awful? What if the classes were too hard?

The crackling radio still spewing out a pop song died, as well as the car engine, and Betty sat stiff in her seat. She stared into little mirror hanging from the ceiling, her reflection blinking back at her; a pale girl with long blonde hair that looked unbrushed, sticking to her forehead with perspiration. Betty pouted, flicking strands of it out of her eyes. The girl in the mirror looked like she was about to be sick.

Before she could catch a hold of herself, Miss Benson was jumping out of the car, lugging her suitcase from the boot. Betty smoothed down her blouse, fixed her skirt and wiped stray hairs from her tights. Outside, Miss Benson cleared her throat loudly and Betty took that as her cue to shuffle out of the car, shouldering her bag. Once her converse hit the gravelly pathway of the parking lot, her stomach flipped over. God, was she really going to throw up? That would be a great impression. 

Her legs were shaking. Betty breathed in cool air, letting the breeze play with her hair, grazing her cheeks. It felt good to be outside. But she wished they had made a pit stop, because this seemed too sudden. Blackwood's main reception was right in front of her, ready for her to bound through the automatic sliding doors. But she could barely breathe. Biting her lip, Betty grabbed her suitcase, tightening her grip around the plastic handle. Her palms were sweaty, sticking to the grasp.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

Miss Benson looked sophisticated in a smooth pale blue dress and heels. While Betty a simple blouse and skirt. She felt like a child.

Betty nodded. She hated small talk. "It's a nice campus." was all she could choke out.

There was an awkward pause, while her care worker's gaze drank in Blackwood's ancient turrets and broad archways. There were assortments of benches spotted around the quad where groups of friends no doubt hung out. Betty fidgeted with her suitcase. Suddenly Blackwood seemed like the worst decision she had ever made. Her stomach twisted with anxiety and she had half a mind to jump back into the back of Miss Benson's car.

"Alright! Have you got everything?" Miss Benson seemed impatient. Betty could feel the woman's gaze on her; beady eyes burning holes into her back. Even if she wanted to say no, there was no home to go back to. The Orphanage wouldn't accept her back even if they wanted to because of her age. And as for her parents, they had been MIA since her birth.

"Okay then Elizabeth, as much as I'd love to stay here and gaze at this wonderful architecture all day, I have other children to take care of." Miss Benson was jumping back into her car and slamming the door, before Betty could answer. So she just stood there and waved, as the car reversed out of the parking lot. "Good luck!" The care worker shouted out the car window, and Betty nodded and waved back. She watched the car until it had disappeared through the huge iron gates bearing the name; BLACKWOOD ACADEMY.

For a moment, Betty wasn't sure what to do. Her stomach was still galloping as she dragged her suitcase over to reception, stepping through the automatic doors. Her hair blew back when she was hit in the face with air conditioning, snapping her out of it a little. The cool air seemed to fill her, chasing away the sick feeling in her gut.

The lobby was what she was expecting; a bright oval room with colourful bean bags spotted everywhere and photo's of alumni proudly framed on pale blue walls. There was a reception desk bang smack in the middle, and Betty slowly made her way over, her legs still jittering. Sitting behind the welcome desk was a young woman with olive skin and a bright smile. "Hi!" the girl grinned. There was a name-tag attached to her denim jacket, bearing the name; Julie. "Welcome to Blackwood! Are you enrolling?"

Nodding, Betty did her best to smile. "Yes, my name is-"

"Elizabeth Cooper," Julie smirked, cocking a brow. She started typing on her keyboard, her blue eyes scanning the monitor in front of her. "Your class have been waiting for you, young lady. You're late."

Betty went cold all over. "I'm sorry, I only received the acceptance letter a week ago, and I had to wait to be discharged from-"

"It's fine!" Julie said in a sing-song voice, interrupting her. "As long as you're here now, there's no problem at all. Now..." she cleared her throat. "Let me find your record."

Betty stood in silence, wincing every time the girl started attacking her keyboard. Damn, Julie was a fast typer. Turning around, she spied a flight of stairs that presumably lead to the dorms. There were still no signs of any kids. She had half a mind to ask Julie where they all were. "Found you!" Julie seemed like the kind of girl Betty would get along with. She had a permanent smile and bright, playful eyes. "Okay, so you're in room 4D," Julie raised her eyebrows at the screen, before her gaze settled on Betty. "I hope you don't mind sharing with multi-sex? You're rooming with three boys, and a girl. Oh, and it's not exactly a room, per-say, it's more of a flat you'll be living in. Due to the number of students applying this year, we've been forced to bunch you all in together."

Betty stared at the girl, waiting for Julie to start laughing. But her gaze was back on the monitor. The glare reflected in her eyes. "Is there a problem?" Julie murmured. "Because I can easily put you in with girls? We have single rooms available too!"

"But you just said-" Betty shook her head. The girl was starting to give her a headache. She had started off saying they didn't have enough room, so they were merging boys and girls, and then she was insisting that they had extra single rooms too. She wanted to say yes to a single room. Because that's what she had initially asked for in her application; a big spacious room with a bed, desk and enough room for her to decorate to her liking.

Betty sighed, tenderly stroking her fingers across the forefront of her head where a throbbing pain slowly began to blossom. She rarely got headaches, but when she did, they hurt like a bitch. "No, It's fine!" she smiled. Though she wasn't sure how comfortable she was rooming with three boys. Betty had only ever shared with Sammy, and the other girls at the orphanage. She'd grown up with teenage boys, and they were messy. Julie was smiling expectantly at her, and she nodded, forcing a grin. "Honestly, it's fine."

"Alrighty!" Julie straightened up, opening a draw on the other side of the desk and pulling out a bulging white envelope. "Here's everything you need," the girl placed the envelope and a small key attached to a heart shaped key-ring on the smooth mahogany desk. "In your pack you'll find your class schedule, and a map of the campus."

Betty grabbed the small key, and took the envelope with a grateful smile, turning to go.

Mouthing her room number under her breath, Betty steeled herself. She had to remember it. The girl considered asking Julie for a pen so she could write it on the back of her hand.

"Oh, wait, I almost forgot!" Julie laughed, delving back into the draw and pulling out something that made Betty's heart stop. She nearly dropped the envelope, and seeing the girl's reaction, Julie chuckled. "Relax!" she giggled, placing a nine millimeter hand gun onto the desk. Betty stared at it, as if it might bite her the second she grabbed it. "All students are required to have a gun at all times," Julie smiled brightly, and Betty swore the girl winked. "You'll see why."

Betty stared at the gun. "You're joking, right?" she said softly, frowning at Julie, but the woman didn't lose her smile. "Trust me, Elizabeth. Take the gun. You'll need it."

She shook her head. "I'm- uh...why will I need it?" Betty picked up the gun, wrapping her hand around it. It seemed to fit perfectly in her palm. Her index already resting on the trigger. Julie grinned widely at her. "It seems like you already know how to use one."

"What?" Betty nearly threw the gun across the room. As much as she hated to admit it, Julie was right. The handheld had felt almost...right in her hand. Curved perfectly around her fingers. She shoved the gun into her bag, along with the envelope. Her chest was tightening, and damn, her head was killing.

That might have be the point where she would ring her parents, questioning the legitimacy of the school. But she didn't have any to complain to. Her heart sank a little when it hit her that she was truly alone in the world. Not even Miss Benson would come to her aid. Like the woman had said, she had other kids to look after. Betty felt sick. The gun felt like it was weighing down her bag. Was this some kind of sick joke? Why were Blackwood Academy students required to hold a gun? None of this was in the leaflet or on the website. Betty felt like Julie knew that she was an orphan, when she glanced at the woman, who was peering at her over her desk. Her blue eyes looked almost challenging, anticipating Betty's next move. "Do you need help with your suitcase?" she asked, her tone sugary sweet, almost too sweet. Rotting your teeth sweet. Betty curled her lip. "I'm good." she muttered, turning away from the desk and marching over to the stairs.

Betty dragged her suitcase up each step, swallowing a groan. The gun felt white hot in her bag, as if every time her bag bounced against her back, the gun was burning into her spine. It didn't take her long to climb the stairs, considering how much she wanted to get away from Julie's steely gaze. At the top of the stairs there were two doors, one leading to dorms A-C and the other D-F. Betty shuffled through the latter, finding herself on a long posh looking corridor. Its carpet resembled the one from The Shining, which unsettled her even more. The corridor was deadly silent. Betty held her breath, pulling her suitcase along. She spied 4D right at the end. Her stomach twisted as she passed 4A, 4B and 4C. Still, she heard no sign of life. No chatter, laughter- nothing. Betty expected the dorm rooms to be decorated with posters or names- something inviting. But they were only identical to one another; soft brown mahogany with the room number etched into a small metal mantelpiece. Betty froze at 4D and started to fumble in her bag for her key, but then she remembered the key was probably for her room. Not the flat itself.

Her head hurt. Betty wasn't expecting college like accommodation. Swallowing, she pushed the door open slowly, slipping through the gap. She wasn’t expecting to walk straight into darkness. Fumbling for a light switch, Betty swallowed a frustrated cry. Why was it pitch black? Did she live with vampires?  Stumbling forward, Betty but her lip. "Hello?" she forced a laugh. "Sorry, uh- is this room- I mean flat 4D?"

There was a muffling noise coming from two feet in front of her. Betty felt her heartbeat quicken, her face flushing red. "Anyone there?" she murmured. She was expecting the lights to come on, blinding her, while her flat mates greeted her. Surely they knew about the new student. After all, Julie had said her class had been expecting her.

She sighed. Were they playing some kind of trick on her? Scaring the newbie? Remembering the mini flashlight Sammy had dropped into her hand when the two had exchanged goodbyes, Betty silently thanked her friend, before shoving her hand into her bag, pawing for the gift. Her fingers grasped it and she pulled it out, clicking the button on the side. The space flooded with blinding white light, and Betty blinked in the allure at the scene in front of her. When her vision cleared, she had to bit hard into her lip to suppress a scream.

Surely she was seeing things. Stumbling back, the mini flashlight Sammy had given her slipped from her grasp, and the light bounced around the room, illuminating every face.

Four to be exact. The kids Betty presumed were her roommates were on their knees in front of her, their arms pinned behind their backs. The room itself was- empty. Flat 4D had blank walls and no carpet. No doors leading into separate rooms. It was the size of the Orphanage's bathroom. Betty's roommates were sitting on filthy flooring. The walls were covered in mold from years of neglect.

This...this was her room. Blackwood Academy had looked so inviting from the inside, so cosy. Yet she had been handed a gun at reception, and now...now this.

"Mmmph!" Betty jumped at the sound of the muffled cry, turning her attention to the kids on their knees. The muffled cry had come from a redheaded boy with with freckles and wide eyes, his mouth covered by a strip of duct tape. He blinked at her in the light, staring wildly at her, while he struggled. There was another boy tied to his back, his identity hidden by the redhead's bold shoulders. Next to them was an olive skinned girl with raven hair cascading down her back.

She was cross legged, her expression manic. It struck Betty then, that none of them were wearing clothes. Or at least next to nothing. The redhead's white shirt was torn down the front, exposing skin glistening dark red- Betty swallowed. It could only be blood. At the corner of her eye, the kid tied to the redhead, wasn't wearing a shirt, and his legs pressed into the harsh concrete floor were bare. The girl was in her bra, with ripped jeans stained contrasting shades of red which caked the material. Through the tears in the girl's pants Betty spied cuts that had long since dried, bits of broken scab still clinging to the exposed skin like loose tea leaves.

Betty lost her breath. All their gazes went from her to- the last kid. Her fourth roommate. The boy was like the others. His shirt was torn across his chest, revealing smooth golden skin. His pants were rolled to their knees, cuts and bruises littering his legs. But unlike the others, he wasn't tied up. He stood broadly, dark curly hair falling in eyes narrowed into slits, a snarl twisted on his lips. The boy was holding a gun, of course he was. Betty's legs were close to giving way. Her fourth roommate held the gun expertly, his fingers moulded around the but while his finger teased the trigger. "I'll shoot them," he murmured. His voice was smooth, like chocolate, dripping from his lips. He turned to her, and shivers zig-zagged down her spine.

When Betty risked a glance at the redhead, he too was staring wildly at her, his gaze piercing. It felt like they were trying to communicate something else entirely than what was actually going on.

"I'll shoot them." The dark haired boy repeated. Betty swallowed the scream building in her throat and stared at the boy. His gaze seemed to be telling a whole different story to his lips. While his mouth was curved into a cruel smile, his eyes were screaming at her.

The boy holding the gun let out a shaky laugh, and before she could help herself, Betty was remembering the gun Julie had given her. Perhaps this is what the receptionist had meant. Betty held the gun in quivering hands. She wasn't even sure if it was loaded. "L- let them go," she managed to choke out, pointing the gun at the boy. But he rolled his eyes. "Make me princess." he muttered. Betty glared at the boy.

If she shot him in the shoulder, she'd only injure him which would give her enough time to free the others and make a run for it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she bit her lip, before squeezing the trigger. She expected a gunshot, and a cry of pain. Except there was just deafening silence. When Betty risked opening her eyes, the redheaded boy's head had dropped, as had the girl's. It looked like their puppet strings had been severed. Whoever had been controlling them had let go.

Her grasp around gun slipped and she dropped it, stumbling back with a muffled cry.

 _"Congratulations."_ the voice was suddenly mechanical, flooding the room. It echoed throughout the space, bouncing off the walls. It was a whole different voice entirely; male. Adult.

_“You chose to shoot him.”_

The boy holding the gun- his expression had relaxed. There was no longer a cruel smirk etched across his lips, his eyes weren't void of humanity. Instead, they were screaming at her. Run. Betty stared back, speechless. She thought the boy was going to continue the silent treatment, but let out a frustrated hiss.

"You passed their stupid fucking test, but if you run now, Princess, you might just make it out." Betty choked on some kind of reply, before the boy was jumping up, suddenly in her face. "Don't you get it?" he was spitting saliva mixed with blood which dribbled down his stained shirt. His lips curled back into an almost animalistic growl. "Run!" he yelled in her face. "Just run!"

When she didn't run, couldn't run- he simply glared at her, his green eyes looked alive with something, a force she couldn't recognise. He looked like he was concentrating , his lip curling, moving slowly, warily. He was mouthing something.

Hissing like a snake, the boy shook his head, clawing his fingernails down his face.

"Stand down, Jones." The voice was back, and the boy- or Jones- was doing just that. Rubbing the back of his neck feverishly, the boy stepped back.

But Betty was glued to the ground. She couldn't move. And Jones was trembling, Betty realized. The gun in his hand was shaking. Before he dropped it completely, dropping to his knees in front of the red head. The boy glared at the ceiling, as if waiting for something, before shaking the redhead. His voice was choked with sobs as he grabbed the unconscious boy's shoulders. "Arch, wake up!" He pressed his face into the redhead's chest, sobbing into the kid's filthy shirt. But the redhead wasn't moving.

Confusion clouded her mind as Betty watched the boy shuffle over to the kid tied to the redhead, frantically trying to shake the boy awake. "Keller! Kevin! Hey!"

The boy, like the redhead, didn't move.

" _State your name."_ the mechanical voice growled through a speaker Betty couldn't see. She swallowed, tearing her gaze from the boy trying to frantically shake the two others awake. The girl was in the same state, her head bowed, her dark hair obstructing her face. "Betty Cooper." she whispered. Then, gathering confidence; "I don't understand what's happening." she spat out each word, forcing her voice not to tremble.

_"Jones, you know what the consequences are for interrupting a test. Sit down and be a good little boy, or you know what I'll do."_

Jones seemed to freeze, all the fight in his eyes dispersed, making way for fear that clenched in Betty's heart. He dropped to the ground, burying his head in his lap. Betty couldn't stop staring at him. The kid looked broken, completely shattered. When her eyes had first lain on his, the boy had looked like a psychopath- that cruel grin twisted on his lips, empty eyes as he pointed his gun at- _they were his friends._ Whoever the voice was, they were forcing him to act like that, as if the whole thing was staged.

Just for her. That was until she had fired the gun, and then reality had bled in, with the kids on the ground seemingly falling unconscious, and the boy regaining his freedom.

 _"Full name please."_ The voice ignored her question.

"What is this?" Betty managed to choke. She couldn't break now. But her eyes were stinging, her throat felt like it was closing up with every shuddery breath.

" _State your full name. I won't ask again."_ The voice a hint of emotion; annoyance. Jones hadn't moved in a few minutes. His head was bowed, his face still buried in his lap.

"Elizabeth Cooper." Betty gave up trying to be rebellious. She answered him softly, ducking her head. This had to be a nightmare. Betty pinched her arm. But there was no lapse in reality. The world didn't spin, and she didn't feel the sudden comfort of her pillows. She was wide awake, and this was all real. " _Do you have a parent or Guardian, Elizabeth?"_ The man behind the voice was teasing her now. His chuckle came through a burst of static and she winced. As much as she wanted him to, Jones didn't move.

Betty clenched her fists. Her throat went dry. "No." she whispered.

_"And your application says you've resided at Falls Orphanage your whole life?"_

"Yes." Betty said, gritting her teeth.

_"Hmm, and it says here you were found in a dumpster at a week old, having been abandoned by your birth parents?"_

She wouldn't cry. Refused to give the bastard the satisfaction. Despite her stubbornness, a stray tear slid down her cheek. "Stop."

" _No family at all? Can you confirm that, Miss Cooper? Because here at Blackwood, we only take in the dregs of society. The kids with no parents, nobody who'll miss them."_

The man clearly wanted to get under her skin, and he was succeeding. His words reverberated around her mind, sending shivers rocketing down her spine. She was shaking, her breath caught in her throat. He was right. She was unwanted. There was nobody to miss her if the academy did do something terrible to her. Which was becoming more and more likely.

 _ **"Don't answer him!** "_ the voice was in her head suddenly. An agonised cry which failed to latch onto her, as if it was meant to. It slipped away before she could register it, but she had heard it; an echo. Except Betty had felt the voice deeply embedded inside her head. When nobody had spoken. Jones still hadn't lifted his head from his lap, but she could have sworn it was his voice that had rattled her skull.

The man chuckled over the speaker. " _Ah, Elizabeth. You're lucky we're accepting you. Though I must admit, you clearly have hidden talent you didn't even know about."_

Betty's mind flashed back to the when Julie had handed the gun. The way it felt right in her hand, had melded perfectly with her palm. Shaking her head, Betty twisted around and grabbed for the door handle- which wasn't there. When she pressed herself into the door, which she had simply pushed open earlier, the door stayed stubbornly shut.

_"Do you honestly think you can run away from us? Elizabeth, we need your talent. Besides, where else are you going to go?"_

Betty didn't reply, slamming her fists into the door. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

" _Jones. Andrews. Restrain our new recruit. If you remember your training, which I hope you do, I want you to empty her mind. Fill it with bliss. So this will comfortable."_

Betty stiffened. The man's words thrummed in her mind, but she only understood 'Empty' and 'mind' while the rest was gibberish. Jones shot to his feet almost instinctively, his expression was blank. He didn't look psychopathic, or broken. He simply stared right through her as he lunged for Betty, pinning her arms behind her back. Andrews rose to his feet too, his expression identical to Jones. Betty struggled in Jones' grip, but his grasp on her shoulders was harsh. His fingernails digging right into her flesh.

Jones held her in place as Andrews advanced towards her. He didn't have a weapon. But that scared her even more. She stood frozen into place, as words appeared in her mind, spoken by a soft voice, while the boy's lips didn't move. He simply stared at her, his brown eyes half shut, like he too was in a trance. There was a voice in her mind which latched onto her, batting away her fear and dread, and her instinct to run away.

" ** _Calm down."_** The voice murmured. "You're safe with us, Elizabeth. Just relax."

Part of her knew that this was all a ruse. The voice wasn't to be trusted. But her thoughts were already turning to jelly as she felt herself go limp in Jones's steel grip. Her mouth was full of wordless cries that didn't feel fitting anymore. She was no longer scared. Andrews smiled down at her as her eyes flickered. She could almost feel the boy picking apart her mind. When Betty hit the ground, she didn't feel her head impact with the concrete flooring. She didn't feel the pain flash in the back of her skull, like a thousand bees had simultaneously stung her. Instead, she felt like she was floating on a cloud. When she tried to move her arms and legs, it felt like they were stuck in molasses. But why was she trying to get away again?

That's the thing...

She couldn't remember.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and tell me what you think! :) This fic is a mixture of Bughead/Jarchie. Since I love both ships, it's pretty much a love triangle lmao. Though this will be a very plot driven story.


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